Warmth
by peridot scarves
Summary: Next to Mugen she feels too hot, next to Jin she feels too cold. In the middle, Fuu feels warm. A sereis of drabbles dealing with the trio.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Next to Mugen she feels too hot, next to Jin she feels too cold. In the middle, Fuu feels warm.

**Disclaimer:**I own nothing (unfortunatley).

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**_Warmth_**

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They hadn't managed to find an inn tonight. 

So they were under the stars again, with the wind, and the cold draping comforts of their own over them. Mugen had lost the blankets again, and so she insisted they sleep closer together-to conserve body heat; nothing else.

Or so she believed.

Or so she wanted to believe.

And strangely they agreed, but that was probably because they had no half assed idea what exactly they were agreeing to. They had been drunk before she asked them. Who said fifteen was a stupid age?

* * *

The night sky twinkled again, and for a second Fuu felt as if it would have been the easiest thing to grasp a single star from the sky. But then again, insomnia had never provided her with good ideas. 

She tossed and turned, wriggling in the middle, sandwiched slightly by the bodies of the two men. She hadn't expected them to sleep so close together.

A slight breeze swept over their shadow dipped bodies and Fuu shivered as the cold curved up her spine. Damn Mugen.

She glanced in the Ryuukan's direction, finding him snoring obnoxiously loud, not that it bothered her anymore; in fact the sound had become oddly comforting. Fuu crept closer, reveling in the heat radiating from his lean body.

She breathed in, tasting a mixture of sweat and sea on her lips that was so…so distinctively Mugen. The cold wind that swept over them again didn't seem as harrowing in his presence. And so she laid her head back down comfortably, waiting for sleep to kiss her goodnight.

Instead, a strong arm reached out to pull her flush against a muscled body. She gasped, less at the actual action than at the heat that poured into her being. Fuu fought against the hand that held her captive but the more she moved, the tighter his grip became.

The sake must've been pretty strong.

Every fiber in her being radiated heat, being next to Mugen was like touching the sun. Hell, Mugen was the sun. Liquid fire filled her veins and made her mind hazy with the passion of it all. Maybe that's what made him such an effective opponent. She was sure anybody that had ever sparred with him had been scorched.

Next to Mugen, Fuu felt as if she was burning, on fire; like the flames that surrounded his aura had been ignited in her. Next to Mugen, Fuu felt hot.

"Mugen!" she gasped, pushing at his chest to loosen the arm wrapped around her. He groaned and turned over, letting her go and mumbling something about sake or whores or whatever it was he usually talked about.

Fuu rolled into the middle once more, her face flushed from being next to the vagabond. The heat was still coiled within her and she wished that the wind would blow over her again. Turning her head to the side, Fuu spied the other samurai on her right.

* * *

Jin. 

His name summoned pictures of rain, serene, cool, calm, and quiet.

If Mugen was the sun, then Jin was the moon.

He looked happy when he was sleeping. Usually, in the day time, Jin was cold and withdrawn, never even offering a smile. Maybe Jin was like the moon, more beautiful in the nighttime when the sun didn't block it from view.

And maybe, unlike Mugen, Jin was cold.

Fuu scooted closer to the silent man, immediately feeling the heat from her previous encounter start to cool. She relaxed again, inching closer to the cold that his body seemed to give off. No mysterious hand shot out to wrap around her, instead Fuu was the one wrapping delicate arms around the ronin.

She was certain he wouldn't notice, he never noticed anything when he was drunk.

A soft sigh left her lips. Being next to Jin was comforting in a way, all the red hot fire that seemed to fill her before cooled considerably. A pale but strong hand made its way to rest on her back and the contact spurred shivers to erupt over her body.

So cold.

If one wasn't careful, one could get ensnared in the frost of his control.

Pulling away gently, Fuu regained her place in the middle.

* * *

Jin was controlled where Mugen was wild, polite where Mugen was crass, cold where Mugen was hot. 

And Fuu…

She was warm.

In the middle, with both hot and cold, both Mugen and Jin; Fuu was warm.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

"_Because in the end, lies become beautiful too…"_

_**Touch**_

****

Fuu knows with every passing day that she's living a lie. Every time the sun touches the sky, she wonders if she'll wake up. And every time it melts into the horizon, she knows she will dream again.

Sometimes she reaches out to touch Mugen, grasping his hand firmly as he shoots her a weird look but relents nonetheless.

Her hand is burning when she draws away.

Other times she runs her hand through Jin's dark hair, and he sighs minutely before putting up his stoic face.

Her hand feels like water when it escapes from his black tide.

Despite being a tender age of fifteen, Fuu knows that sometimes living in make-believe hurts far less than the truth. She knows that after awhile they'll disappear too, Mugen will cease to be hot and Jin will cease to be cold.

And this reality she buries at the back of her mind, because lies don't hurt when you're the one lying.

So everyday she spends with a smile on her face, bickering with Mugen or sitting with Jin; and at night she grasps both their hands as if to make dreaming easier.

Five years later, Fuu wakes up. And when she reaches out, Mugen isn't warm and Jin isn't cool. She knows they are gone when she feels nothing.

But in the back of her mind, they are there, behind glass walls they are there.


	3. Chapter 3

"_They gave each other a smile with a future in it…"_

_**Smile**_

****

Branches crumble under his feet; the night seemed cool away form the red licking flames. For the first time since their dysfunctional journey started, Mugen feels alone. One last look at the two sleeping forms and he is on his way, the crumbling rhythm underfoot.

"Leaving so soon?"

For the first time in months, he acknowledges the man in blue seriously.

"Jin?"

He doesn't respond at the sound of his name but instead falls silent, the fire crackling around them.

"What is it? You wanna come with or somethin'?"

The single syllable that Jin utters breaks the silence around them.

"Fuu."

The vagabond sinks to the ground, all of his previous vigor gone.

"You were going to leave weren't you? How disgraceful, but then again I never expected much from you."

Those sentences hurt Mugen more than any sword ever could.

"Shut up, fish face! I- I just…"

The fire crackles again.

Footsteps creak on the forest floor and the ronin is standing before him, rough hands grab his collar and Mugen finds himself thrust against a tree.

Cool liquid eyes peer back at him, boiling like water in a teapot.

"Why?"

For a second it seems as if Mugen will back down, but he looks up with eyes that could freeze fire.

"Don't act like you don't know, Jin."

The hand holding the collar loosens and Mugen falls against the wood.

Two sighs intermingle in the night.

They know all too well.

They know that they would never forget; that this journey would be carried on their souls till the next life. They know that when she smiles, they wouldn't be able to leave.

To men who had only known loneliness all their lives, smiles were a rarity.

It was her smile that held them in place.

The night cracks again as Mugen pushes of the tree, dropping his sword near the fire.

"Aaw, I guess I can hold off on leaving. Otherwise that bitch might start crying."

Underneath the words, they both know there is a smile.

Big honeysuckle eyes blink at them, "W-what its morning already? Wait, were you guys fighting again? Go back to sleep."

For the first few seconds, they stand there smiling at her.

Even though Mugen knows his is a little too wide and passionate, and Jin knows his is too tightlipped and cold.

But it doesn't matter because when Fuu smiles back, it's warm.


	4. Chapter 4

"_They had their own kind of tune…"_

_**Music**_

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****

He was always a man of few words, always quiet and never obtrusive. Though it seemed odd that after relishing the silence for the first twenty years of his life, he came to dread the way it followed him.

With Mugen and Fuu, noise was inevitable. He always did seem to attract the boisterous ones.

Of course, he cursed inwardly at their inability to keep quiet the first few months of their journey. But as they reached closer to their roundabout destination, Jin found some kind of comfort in their explosive voices.

And in some alternate world, he still hears Mugen's loud, obscene cursing and Fuu's endless nagging. When he walks down the street these days, every rough faced sailor becomes a red robed vagrant, and every nagging child, a spirited fifteen year old.

But that's not the part he wants to remember. Because in all those annoying naggings and insulting jibes, there's some hint of music to it. They had their own up and down rhythm but it was really the music he was listening for.

When they used to lie by the camp fire, each caught up in their own dreams, he would lie awake. And that's when he found out what they really sounded like.

Fuu would sing quietly to her self, and in the midst of all the notes, he knew she was crying. With quiet tears and quiet notes, Fuu wasn't the strong girl her voice led on.

Mugen would hum quietly and somehow, Jin knew it was a Ryuukan melody. It wasn't loud enough to disturb, but just enough to reach the waves that he knew lay beyond.

And that's how he wants to remember them.

Not loud and laughing.

Because behind every smile, he sees a tear.

No, he wants to remember them quietly with a tune not found in their daytime personalities.

And at night, Jin finds himself humming a melody that reminds him of both sunflowers and ocean water.


	5. Chapter 5

"_His lips quirking in a familiar greeting…"_

_**Recollection**_

A year later Mugen is still Mugen.

He ambles down the street with a grin so wide it could rival the sun. He drinks and cheats and gambles and beds whores till the newborn sun touches the glowing sky. And of course, he still picks a fight with anyone who dares to look at him sideways.

But that's only in mannerisms; in his heart of hearts, he knows something's changed.

When he visits the brothel sometimes, he stares too long at the flat chested ones, his mind wandering far away. He sees a girl with chestnut hair and a vibrant pink kimono, and for a second, his voice is straining against his lungs to shout. But he holds himself back, because when he gets a better look, she doesn't have the big lively eyes of someone else he knew.

That night he spends by the river, his stomach burning and his pockets empty. The only food is the fish swimming in the smooth blue of the current. So he fashions a fishing rod and dips it into the luminescent water below.

Mugen peers at the fish, and it stares back, eyes cool and daunting. His mind is suddenly filled with pictures of blue water and the cool calm of a man dressed in indigo. The vagabond glares at the evasive creature and growls in frustration, breaking the fishing rod over his knee.

The fish swims away, slipping easily between the ripples of the tide, elusive; like a ronin he used to know. Mugen sits on the bank then, slate gray eyes following the fish in water, and his lips quirking in a familiar greeting, 'Oi, fish face!'

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**A/N: IMPORTANT!!! Well guys, since I don't have that much time to brainstorm themes or drabbles anymore, I wanna know what you want to be written. Think about it as one of those challenge thingies. So if you have any theme or situation involving the trio just holler (or leave it in your review.)**


	6. Chapter 6

"_**Sometimes they find themselves wearing each other's colors…"**_

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**Red and Blue**

Blue is the color he sees when he wakes up. Mugen scowls and pretends not to notice how much it reminds him of someone.

The sky stains gold and red in the sunset. Jin doesn't stare at it too long because he knows the only red that he ever really acknowledges is that of Mugen's gi.

They see their world in each other's colors.

Topsy- turvy, upside down, red to blue, blue to red.

When Mugen starts a campfire, he sees the flames burn blue. They glimmer quietly, without the hiss and spit of heat; an impression of water over fire.

Jin follows the current of the river with his eyes. The water turns blood red in the glow of the sunrise. He smiles faintly, thinking of fire that does not wane in the presence of liquid.

That afternoon he walks into a tailor shop. The old ragged blue shirt on his back is discarded. When he leaves the store, Jin is a tad bit fearful that the red on his back will burn a hole through his flesh.

A good distance away, Mugen lies on near the ocean; the blue gi on his back matching the color of the waves he knows will drown him.


	7. Chapter 7

_To Teppobizmol, who wanted something to do with grace. I hope its good!_

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Nobody's ever called it grace.

He flips and twists in the air, riding his impulses like a bout of insanity has embodied him; which it probably has. He jerks and swings, jumps and spins; a perfect picture of a puppet being pulled by its strings. He fights with limbs akimbo and crazed, almost joyful laughter erupting from his throat.

They've all called it insanity, or even a bit of genius, but never graceful.

Nobody's ever called it grace before.

He is sleek, arms and legs moving like liquid. The beat in his step is ever present; he plays all of his moves as if someone had programmed him to. He never misses, always calculated and always the one in control. He steps and swings, a small remorseful smile on his features when the sword hits its target.

They've all called it smooth, maybe even a hint of perfection, but never graceful.

Nobody but her.

She watches them fight with awe. Together they look like a play; graceful. Mugen's spiteful fire and Jin's coursing water. They dance around each other with swords unsheathed and eyes wary.

The beat in their hearts give away to a punishing rhythm in their footsteps. Jin's steps are always fluid, each move is sure and steady: One who has mastered the art of walking on water. But that still doesn't counter the way Mugen explodes on the ground, the dirt flying behind him; everywhere at once and yet nowhere to be seen.

It is together she likes them best. One without the other is like winter without summer. They are a tapestry of contradictories but they weave something out of their vengeful dance that is more graceful than one alone could even hope to achieve.

Fuu smiles briefly when the glance at her. She envisions grace beyond all limits; before yelling at them to stop acting so childish.


	8. Chapter 8

"_All meetings are once in a life time…"_

_**Destiny**_

"There will be two men in your destiny. Watch for him who is benevolent, but don't forget the one with infinity in his eyes. I see both water and fire in your future." These are the words she hears from the fortune teller. Fuu blinks up at the mysterious lady before hastily throwing a coin in the tub, and hurrying back to the tea shop.

Fuu wonders what her mother would think if she heard that her daughter would be intertwined with not one man but two.

That night, she dreams of sunflowers amidst rain. When she wakes in the morning, her ears fill with the sound of pounding water, and Fuu smiles slightly when sees the tapestry of dark blue clouds spilling tears. When she closes her eyes, the faint picture of a man dressed in blue appears in her vision.

At the tea shop, she over hears two men talking about bushido. It's something she's not quite familiar with. But she lingers to listen and one word sticks to her mind: _Jin, benevolence. _

* * *

The sun shines brilliantly the day after. It's so bright, Fuu wonders if her eyes can survive the intensity of it all. She shuts them for a brief moment and sees in the space behind her eye lids the image of a man with wild, piercing eyes. The rest of his face is drowned out in flashes of fiery red.

That night Fuu glances up at the diamond speckled sky. A single syllable falls from her mouth: _Mugen, infinity_.

When she lays her head to rest to on the futon, brilliant images of blue, red and pink flash through her mind. The rest of her dreams are filled with sun drenched flowers.

* * *

Six months later, at the tea shop, she knows her destiny has caught up with her when she sees them.

"_There will be two men in your destiny. Watch for him who is benevolent, but don't forget the one with infinity in his eyes."_


	9. Chapter 9

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_**Dreaming**_

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Fuu dreams of home; sun drenched flowers and the soft tones of her mother and father. It's still as she remembered it, the sunlight casting patterns through the weave of trees and the soft wind chasing the falling leaves. It's a dream she's held for a long time though it shattered with the knowledge that her mother no longer exists and her father's a traitor. Her dream breaks when the bright sunflowers wither and the sky seems to melt. In this garish new experience she sees the three of them. Red, pink and blue. It's a new dream she wants to foster but is afraid to.

Fuu wakes up suddenly, the rhythmic breathing of the two men echoing in her ears and wonders if they know too.

Mugen dreams of the deep lull of the ocean. He can't seem to get away from the truth it holds or the way it seems to mimic his name. He always wanders back to it's warmth in the end, though he's not quite sure he needs it when he has these two. Still, the waves calm him for a bit before his heart starts itching again. The lull of the ocean suddenly shifts into the ragged breathing of him and his companions, and the sudden intimacy before his eyelids pulls him from his slumber.

Mugen glances at the others and feels a different kind of heat course through his veins. He feels odd, as if they've seen it too.

Jin dreams of the calm and stillness of the dojo. It's a place he's dreamed of many times before. The building is vivid in his memory; every crack in the walls, every squeak in the floorboards. It rings of an eternity that Jin doesn't quite want to understand. Yet, he can't feel the same warmth that had always enveloped him as a child. Instead, he sees only the blood on the walls, on the floor, on his own hands. It's everywhere, even after its been washed a hundred times over. He can still smell the iron and the sweat. But it all disappears in a flash of bright light and he sees himself with them. Happiness is a foreign feeling for him but it pools in his stomach languidly.

Jin opens his eyes slowly, his mind still trying to clutch to the last remnants of his dream. He looks at the fire lit bodies of his companions and a sliver of a smile spreads across his face.

In the morning, Fuu is oddly quiet, Mugen sports an uncharacteristic blush and Jin attempts to smile.


End file.
